Crash And Burn
by Katylar
Summary: I know... overused title. Just a few ficlets about a certain relationship. Told from different angles. 1: Tessa. 2: Goodman. 3: Zach. 4: Angela. 5: Hodgins. 6: Surpise. 7: Parker. Reviews are appreciated. thanks.
1. Lawyer

A/N: Something different. First time I wrote a drabble. Maybe because I really had no idea where I was going with this one. PWP. I just had to get this one out. Sorry if it doesn't seem as good (supposing that you guys found the others good) as my other stuff, but this is an experiment. First Tessa fic, I think.

Disclaimer: I don't own nothing.

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Crash And Burn  


She had never really thought she'd lose.

Whenever she looked into his eyes, all she could see was _her_.

At first, it had seemed petty. Then ever so quickly, like a gash from a friend's knife, she saw it grow. It had been monstrous- utterly inevitable. And she hated herself for it.

She knew as soon as he walked into the door that it was over.

He didn't have to say anything. Neither did she. The silence that filled their bedroom that night spoke the volumes that she had already expected.

She had never really thought she'd lose.

They always fought; always argued. They didn't have the perfect serenity that had been in _their_ relationship. They had almost nothing in common. Whereas _they_ agreed in everything.

Or maybe she was the only one deciding. And he had just been indifferent.

Their love didn't just fall into place, like _theirs_ did. Their love clawed and bit its way into everybody's lives. It was like some feverish thing that just wouldn't go away and soon grew too big to be ignored.

And she, like some pet goldfish, had been beautifully idle. Until it was time to be flushed down the toilet.

She had never really thought she'd lose.

She was the perfect girlfriend. Tall, blonde, beautiful, smart. While _she_ was anti-social. Inept.

But at the end of the day, when she taken off her power-suit and earrings and make-up, she saw the reason why she had lost.

Plain. Bland. Dim.

While _she_ burned like a star in the night sky- a nova of emotions and eccentricities.

And that's how love's supposed to be. That how life's supposed to be.

Everything that's worth having is worth fighting for. And everything that doesn't even merit a fight is just hollow.

She had never really thought she'd lose.

But Tessa had.

And from here unto eternity, she knew she would never see herself in the mirror the same way again.

Whenever she looked into his eyes, all she could see was _her_.

And _she_ was beautiful.

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A/N: Crappy, yes. But I was really getting freaked out by this idea. I might com back and improve it. Reviews help! 


	2. Administrator

A/N: OOkkay… first time I'll ever write a second chapter in any fic. Hehe… Just couldn't keep myself away from thinking along these lines. Another drabble, of sorts.

Disclaimer: I don't even have enough money to buy ink.

Crash And Burn

"Sir?"

Some may say that his was a bizarre and perturbing fascination.

But it wasn't. It wasn't at all.

He looked up at her, as she stood in his office impassively. His freshly brewed coffee made its presence known with steamy indulgence.

Age and everything else were trivialities in their line of work, were the passage of time did not hinder.

And although he was indeed old enough to see her in a paternal light, he wasn't completely devoid of his senses.

He found her to be amazing.

Someone who was smarter than him, and was confident enough to behave like she did made him realize just how much everybody else wallowed in their mediocrity.

He had a fascination. True. But he was convinced that it was a valid and justifiable curiosity.

And no one could ever claim with impunity that she wasn't beautiful.

She captivated everyone around her. Including him.

He was at first worried when the FBI agent started coming around. But he had allowed it. Telling himself that he was secure. That he shouldn't be worried.

Besides, they were complete polar opposites. Like fire and ice.

But in the end, no footing was sure.

And in the passage of time that he had grown to dismiss, something happened.

Something undeniable, indelible. And damning.

And he lost her.

He would never be able to see her again in that light. He wouldn't allow it.

But sometimes, when he stared into her eyes, he couldn't help but die a little bit more inside.

But he was a scientist. He viewed world through the detached lens of a microscope. He shouldn't let such _things_ interfere or influence him.

He decided, and died some more.

Besides, it was only a fascination, right?

"That will be all, Dr. Brennan."

"Thanks. Goodnight Dr. Goodman."

A door clicked closed.

He stared at the coffee mug for a very long time.

A/N: I might make another one. Reviews help!


	3. Assitant

A/N This will probably the shortest one, I'm aiming for just one page. This is suppose to be a drabble, godamnit! Long notes at the bottom. Review, please!

Disclaimer: I own only my t-shirt and glasses. Nothing else. Not even my underwear.

Crash And Burn

Glasses clinked together and made a peculiarly melodic screech across the room.

Eyes filled with laughter and mirth turned and focused with expectance.

A shuffling of various eating implements and clearing of throats guaranteed the audience.

And Zachary Addy smiled nervously.

He didn't exactly know how he got into this situation. In his mind, it had been a blur of spikes and knives to him- a whirlwind of activity and hurt that had lengthened the past ten months into both an eternity and a blink of an eye.

His logical mind told him that he was the one chosen for this particularly scary job because he was the least imposing. He was just a kid, for all everybody cared. And all of his otherfriends aside from the squints were either dead to him or to the rest of the world. Sometimes both.

But what had really been the most ironic twist was the fact that he was in love with her. Even if nobody believed in it enough to notice.

She was his idol. The one he had fantasies and dreams of. The person who kept him up at night- but also the only thought that made him relax.

She was his mentor, his goddess, his love.

But he was just a kid. And like everything else in his life, she was by someone else while he watched.

He burned inside every time he saw the two of them together. But he couldn't really hate him. He was a good guy. The type of person Zach had pictured himself to be in his dreams with her.

Why hadn't he made a move? Made any attempt at all? Made himself the hero, for once?

As the questions lingered, he knew that he already knew the answers.

And hated himself more because of them.

But then again, he was just a kid. What did he know?

He finally forced himself to stand and stare into his own personal nothing.

And amidst the sea of clinks, white dresses, eyes and expectations, he cleared his throat.

He bowed at the bride, then at the groom.

Heart and soul bled a little bit more as he faced the room again. Everyone glanced at him- the best man.

"I've been asked to say a few words…"

A/N: Well, it's done.

I know this might seem like a big thing... with the implied wedding and all, but remember that I'm just playing around, and I haven't concretized a time frame- so this may actually be a few years into their partnership...

I know that most of you wanted me to develop all the minor characters, and maybe I will. However, given that my theme is about unfulfilled love, I kept it to these three... I may come back and make a chapter for Hodgins (but it would seem like sort of a repeat of this chapter, given that his target of unrequited love would also be Brennan) and Angela seems very elusive indeed. Rebecca and Cullen might be nice, albeit hard, and Parker just wouldn't fit into the "Crashing and Burning". But I would really love to tackle all of them. Maybe next week, if I get time off from work.

Also, I have read in some fics that Goodman was married, so that's why I wrote the line about 'age... trivialities' (keeping it safe, since I wasn't sure, and because- who says that a married man can't desire another woman?).

I might make another series with other characters in mind. But until then, this will be considered complete. Thanks for reading. And... Reviews keep me warm at night.


	4. Artist

A/N Well, because of the reviews, I guess I should write just one more piece before I stop- I repeat, this is not a sign that I shall be developing all the characters, as most reviewers urge me to. I'm not sure if I can do it, honestly. I've just realized how many people on read fics and don't leave reviews… I have over a thousand hits on this fic, but only 16 reviews- Oh well, I guess my work is for a person with different tastes from the mainstream. But enough whining! Moving on… this will probably be the worst.

Disclaimer: Even if I use my best charm-smile on fate, she still wouldn't let me own this show.

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Crash And Burn

They were talking again.

It was infuriating, sometimes- how the two of them could just talk and talk and talk for hours on end, living in their own little world.

Angela never did that with any of the guys she had gone out with- heck; she didn't even do pillow talk.

Knowing the two, they were probably either whispering in each other's ear sweet nothings about the night sky or arguing over the stars.

And the scary thing was, when they were the ones in question, she never could tell which of the two conversations they enjoyed more.

She was supposed to be the worldly one. The socialite, the woman of experience and liberties; and, for all intents and purposes, she really was more upbeat when it came to the cabaret called life than her best friend.

But then again, even the corpses their jobs provided them with were social butterflies and libertines when compared to Brennan. Anyone was.

And that's why she had taken it upon herself to relieve her friend of the self-inflicted loneliness she had locked herself in- regardless of the kicking and screaming.

She had gone at them for months. Hounding their every step, observing every nuance of contact and rapport- and of course, bringing said tidbits to both of their attention.

She had played the game like a woman on a mission- but no one could outrun exhaustion. It had finally come to the point where she was ready to give up- her victims unyielding.

It had seemed such a waste; she had wished her friend the happiness denied her for so long- until fate had finally decided to give her match-making efforts a hand.

And then, naturally, like some predestined chemical reaction, the two had just clicked. It was like some sort of switch had been flicked on.

But with all the sparks and fireworks and dead stars flying around, Angela- the woman of the world- learned a very hard lesson from her cabaret.

No good deed goes unpunished.

Because now, after her constant prodding had finally paid off, instead of feeling things like elation or relief or whatever else- all she could feel was jealousy.

Not that she was jealous of Booth- she had known as sure as autumn as soon as he had walked into their lab the first time that the guy was reserved for someone else.

It didn't matter that no one else- including him- had realized it.

But she was jealous of their relationship. Of what it meant.

A lasting bond. A bridge forged on pasts and different opinions and coffee and dead bodies.

And she knew that she would probably never have that. Never form that special connection with someone else.

Her own best friend's novel spoke about how she was doomed to a life of loneliness because all she cared about was instant gratification.

Angela knew that Tempe had not meant to hurt her with what she had written. But she had.

It had hurt not because it seemed thoughtless; but because she knew that it was true. A cold clinical fact.

She seemed to know a lot of things. She was an artist, after all- she painted the links between the bones in skeletons of truth and evidence.

But it didn't make her less aware that her relationships were just pathetic flickers- shooting stars- while _their_ bond burned like some sun in some galaxy- heavenly bodies that you can only find when you were gazing at the wet summer sky with someone you love.

Shooting stars were only good for one wish. And she'd already used hers up.

She stood behind them, not really caring about how long, thinking of all the things she knew she'd never find.

Unshed, Angela's tears remorsefully reflected what she was seeing- her best friend smiling while the man she loved offered her the stars.

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A/N: Like it? It was kinda hard. Hope I didn't disappoint too much. 

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, kudos to Elizabeth Theresa for giving me a very good outtake on Parker.

The flicked switch line is a homage to Caroline- one of the best fic writers in this fandom.

See you guys next time. Please review this chapter and the ones before- so few commented on my Zach piece. I don't drink coffee, so the only things that keep me alive are reviews!


	5. Millionaire

A/N I just can't stay away, can't I? Darkest one, probably. Please review!

Disclaimer: I bought the show last night- oops… drank too much soda again..

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Crash And Burn

Holding his breath, he carefully caught the insect in his fingers- stained-glass wings beating wildly and vainly as he lifted the specimen towards his work area.

Beautiful. That had been the thought that came to Hodgins' mind when he first saw the insect. Its gigantic, mesmerizing eyes dominating its being. Wings made of multicolored gossamer usually lifting it up and about in dizzying feats of agility.

Just like her.

He fought to steady his hand as it despairingly shook in response to the maelstrom of thoughts that bombarded his mind- like bees attacking a honey thief.

He still couldn't believe it.

He had watched her for so long; he had forgotten that there were other people in this world aside from the two of them. He had seen her go through multitudes of things- some dire, some triumphantly rewarding for them all.

He had watched her, but always from afar- for fear of damaging her, or so he told himself. To his keen eye, she had seemed too inwardly frail, despite her best efforts to mask that fragility.

Sometimes, he really hated his job.

He was a person who fundamentally played God everyday of his life. He made scientifically sound forensic conclusions based on the lives and deaths of hundreds of tiny living things. At times, experiments and recreations of the development and eventual extinction of life were called for.

And through these all, complete with demonstrations of the singular insignificance of these insects, he had been there- observant, vigilant; watching.

He was wealthy- extremely so. He really didn't need to keep this job. When asked, he had simply answered, for both himself and the questioner, that he had it because he was dedicated to his craft of science.

After all, he was a scientist. One of the best. A Rhodes scholar, respected and admired.

But she still managed to make him feel like a redneck who spent all his time watching the superbowl and chugging down beer through a straw.

Just like all his insects, she made him feel wholly inadequate.

So of course, he covered it all up with sensical nonsense like conspiracy theories.

Then _he_ had appeared- like some spider. And she walked into his parlor with all the pomp and circumstance due her.

And all Jack Hodgins could do was watch. Like he had always done, for a very long time.

Sometimes, he really hated his job.

He had to end so many things, make so many meaningless games out of lives that could never be more than they were. He had tried to read more significance in the day-to-days of his life- but it came out just like all his other theories: nonsensically logical.

Beautiful- with large eyes that just ate all the existential baggage away; rainbow wings that took them to dizzying heights in his mind.

He couldn't watch her anymore. It was no longer his place. He had allowed his prize to fly away from his Plexiglas cage, and he had to live with that.

He tightened his hold on the scalpel, and cut.

The dragonfly jerked.

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A/N: Sorry if this seemed like the most PWP of all, and the most jumpy. It was also the darkest, if you read it the way I read it. 

For everyone who cares to know, I've decided to finish this collection. Only two more chapters left. However, since I already consider this a complete fic, I will maintain the 'complete' statues. (besides, more people read complete fics)

Thanks for all the reviews. Please give me feedback. I'd truly appreciate it. Also for the other chapters, I have too few reactions to the previous two chapters, I'm not sure if I should change my style or quit altogether.

Thanks for reading. I apologize in advance and request your excuse if you happen to find any incorrect spellings or grammar, because I wrote this in a rush on notepad.


	6. Bystanders

A/N Hope you guys like this one. I apologize in advance if it's kinda confusing.

Disclaimer: It's sad, really.

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Crash And Burn

Closing the folder with an exhausted sigh, his fingers automatically moved to their usual place on his closed eyelids. Rubbing jerkily in quasi-circular motions to make the stress go away, he found out after a short interval- as he had also found out, repeatedly, after the past fifty years- that it simply didn't work.

Abruptly standing up from his battered chair and shrugging into his coat, he wearily made his way towards the aging elevator on his floor. The office had had a new one installed the other week, and for all its shiny exterior and pricy buttons, it broke down after three days of abuse.

Grumbling profanities, he impatiently waited for the metal box to make its way up from wherever it was- thoughts of budget cuts and delinquent agents using up all available funding with stupid and costly maneuvers. Like renting Mustangs while on a case.

A name instantly came to his mind, and disbelief filled in for anger.

He still couldn't believe that one of his best agents had gotten together with a squint.

Albeit, she was fine-looking enough to merit attention. But still, it galled him to no end, every time he saw their names side by side in a closed case file.

She was a temperamental brat. Acting like she was above everything- from respect for rules and regulations to proper civilian handling protocol.

That woman stank of trouble. Or maybe of dead bodies.

His thoughts ground to a halt as the elevator chimed like a long lost friend and opened its doors.

* * *

Amy looked at the man with incredulity marking her impish features. He was certainly attractive- to a degree. But she had never been one for blind dates and casual pick-ups. She had always needed something- anything- to tell her that the person in front of her was connected in some way to her life, and therefore might be worth a shot. 

Dwelling on men and her life made the memory of a certain FBI agent swoop down on her. Wryly, she reiterated to herself that that man was attractive; and intelligent as well. She had grown to know him because coincidence brought them face to face a number of times in the court of law.

She chuckled like some pixie from an island across the sea as she remembered him always testifying against her client.

She had never truly admitted it to herself- at least until she had a few drinks, like now- but she believed in fate; even just a little. Soul mates and destiny and star-crossed lives charming her since adolescence and having never let her go.

Booth had seemed like a very good prospect, for her. And fate had stabbed in more than a couple of instances, making them meet again and again.

But then, she had always been too busy; or too utterly professional.

That had always bothered her, even when she was still an awkward teenager- what would happen if you met your soul mate and didn't do anything? Are you forever doomed to a life of loneliness and what ifs?

Depression set in and she reached for another shot of tequila. She wondered where the object of her despair currently was, concluding with the alacrity of the tipsy that he was probably with that lady scientist.

Thoughts were derailing somewhat until a hand caught her shoulder. Eyes forced hers to meet them.

"So what do you say? Would you like to get some dinner?"

_To hell with Booth._

"Sure? Why not?"

She stood up unsteadily and smiled at the man offering her more than just his arm. He was, in all fairness, attractive enough. She never knew, maybe he was the one her soul had been waiting for. Maybe there was some tidbit in both of their pasts that would link them like some cross-stitch pattern of stars.

She grabbed her coat- and after a moment's hesitation- his arm.

"What did you say your name was again? I'm Amy."

"David."

* * *

She knew she was being immature, but she had grown so used to the part that she sometimes suspected that she really was just an overgrown brat. 

Vehemence colored her mental wanderings as she focused on the woman standing beside her ex-lover.

She hated that woman.

But moreover, she hated him.

Her eyes flickered a violent glaze as she watched her son jump into his father's arms. She really wished him dead, sometimes. How could he do that? How could he be absent from Parker's life the majority of the time and still receive his undying love?

Giggles and stupid masculine baby names ruptured the humid tension on her front lawn. And all she could do was wish it all back. The discomfort was her only weapon, after all.

She had hoped that the unsaid things and pregnant silence would drive him away within a few months after the baby was born. But he had kept on coming, fighting for every spare ounce of custodial rights he could wrangle from a judge who had had a crush on her.

Looking back, she once again allowed some aspect of conscience to admonish her. He had been totally mature and civil about the whole thing, once he gotten the shock and worry out of his system. He had offered marriage, support, and shared responsibility.

She, of course, had denied him almost everything.

Joyous cries shook her from her reverie as Parker pretended that he had defeated his father in a rousing game of imaginary swords.

She really hated how he seemed to have pulled his life together- a son who didn't resent him, a good career, and a beautiful woman by his side. While all she had was a son who was growing up too fast and little else.

And maybe that's why she drove him away from her life. She couldn't help but feel jealous. Couldn't help but be envious of his resilience and strength; and for any woman special enough to tame him.

She looked up at the woman in question, and nodded just enough to be perceived.

A smiling gaze left the quarrelling boys and looked up. Striking eyes that were green, blue, and gray at the same time locked with hers. Confusion slowly melting into uneasy understanding.

Rebecca held the stare for a moment, then turned on her heel and strode towards the house.

Locked doors, plaster walls, and a few things more profound separated her from the happy family on her front lawn. And though she knew she was being immature, she resented them all the more.

She waited there, beside the window, until they left.

* * *

Footsteps apologetically echoed across that concrete underbelly of the Federal Bureau of Investigation's building as he walked towards his car. 

Rats and shadows playing in the background made the walk pensive.

He still couldn't believe that one of his best agents had fallen for a squint.

But then again, what was so unbelievable about it?

And although he still found her disconcerting and worth his dislike, he admitted to himself that he found no more shortcomings from her.

And as long as the partnership they had tenuously formed gave him results, he was happy to leave it at that.

Deputy Director Sam Cullen, FBI, got into his car, started the engine, and drove the car away from his stencil-marked parking area.

He didn't look back.

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A/N: Long, eh? One more chapter to go. 

I'm sorry if they seem OOC, I really haven't the foggiest insight into any of their minds, as I haven't seen any episodes where they were allowed to develop. If episodes exist that develop these minor characters I take the responsibility for the OOCness. The only people here I've seen on the show are Cullen(very briefly), and Amy. Same Episode. I haven't the foggiest idea who David is. Except that Bones had a date scheduled with him or something?

Hope I didn't disappoint with this one. This was probably one of the hardest and most technically complex fics I've written so far. I humbly ask for apologies for any mistakes in grammar or spelling. Still using notepad.

The concluding chapter will be up tomorrow, and it will be on Parker. A burger to JacobedRose for mentioning him, solidifying my resolve on using him as a conlusion.

Also, thanks to BonesFAN! For mentioning Amy. Ataea, for mentioning David.

Estreya Star, enough Booth-centered-ness for you?

And finally, hope you keep those reviews a-comin! I truly enjoy them. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	7. Son

A/N: it's been a pleasure, guys. Illegal review shout-outs at the bottom. I'm sorry for not replying to reviews, I've really, truly busy. It's actually a wonder that I've gotten thirty minutes a night to write each chapter. Hope you enjoy. Weirdest one.

Disclaimer: I broke my guitar the other day. Cry for me, please.

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Crash And Burn

"_But why aren't we gone?'_

'_We aren't gone- we're just not here yet.'"_

_-Raina1, Walking In The Light_

Parker quickly glanced up at the woman standing beside him. Uncertainty marking his innocently happy face with a slight crinkle of brow. He almost never needed anyone to chaperone him anymore- he was, after all, a grown-up, seven years and three-quarters old. He was big enough to tackle everything the world might decide to throw at him, whether they be that weird dog next door or cooties.

But sometimes, when things were just beyond his reach, or he was too scared- he'd never admit it, of course- he knew that he needed to grow up just a little bit more before he could do everything on his own. And until then, he could always ask for help. His father had told him that, and it had to be true, because his dad was the coolest dad in the world.

So that's why he was standing there, on the sidewalk, looking up at the woman next to him. She was his dad's special friend. She was weird sometimes, but she had always seemed to be happy whenever he had talked to her. And she smiled. He trusted people when they smiled the way she did. It was just something he knew how to tell apart- a fake one and a real one. Like crayons. His dad had told him that, too.

He had been told that her name was Tempe. It was a nice name. But sometimes, he got confused, because he'd heard his dad call her something different. Maybe it was a nick name. His was Bub.

He liked her. Not just because he trusted her, but also because his dad seemed to laugh more often whenever she was around. And whenever his dad laughed, it always meant that the whole world was okay.

He had wondered, last night, just before he had turned off the nightlight, if he would ever grow up to be as old as Tempe. Maybe then, once he had caught up with her, he'd be able to laugh real loud whenever she was around, too.

Not that she didn't already make him laugh. She was fun- acting just like him, sometimes. And he knew more stuff than her about some things. She didn't even know who SpongeBob Squarepants was! And she gave him milk and cookies- his favorite food in the whole world.

A tune made him stop his thinking as he saw her smiling down on him.

He smiled back, and an ice-cream truck passed them by.

* * *

They were fighting again. He really hated it whenever his parents got into fights. They didn't shout at each other like other kids' parents did. They didn't even say anything particularly insulting- they insulted each other all the time. No, for them, a fight would be heralded by silence. And sulking. 

He knew what it was about. Him.

Tempe didn't care much for his decision to take his music so seriously. And his father didn't, too. But he was at least a bit more civil about it. He believed that it was just a phase all teenagers had to go through.

He hadn't eaten anything yet today. He had gone straight into his room after arriving from school. He didn't really want to face her.

Why couldn't they just support his choice? They hardly approved of anything he did. His friends, his music, his grades. He knew that both his parent's were smart, Tempe was a genius- he had been reminded, rather annoyingly, time and time again by his teachers. Maybe that was why they expected so much from him.

Well, screw their lousy expectations. They didn't really give a damn about how he felt and who he was.

Besides, Tempe wasn't even his real mother. His real mother lived in some trailer park with some drunken bastard after she'd married some other drunken bastard.

His fingers felt chilly as he stuffed his clothes into his bag. He really needed to get out of this place. Away from everything, especially from them. Checking his watch, he saw that it was already three a.m.

His stomach grumbled. It was too risky to make a sandwich in the kitchen downstairs. Maybe he'd stop buy a fast-food place before he hit the road to L.A.

Sneaking carefully down the stairs- they squeaked- he said good bye to all the familiar shadows. Glad to be finally rid of them. Feet making soft sounds on the carpet leading towards the dining room then freedom.

He stopped when he saw the milk and cookies set on the table.

* * *

She'd never forgiven him. 

But everything was forgotten today.

Because today was the day that he buried his father.

He glanced around the room, seeing faces both familiar and not. Sometimes a little bit in between. Maybe he should right a song about that. All those lonely people floating through your life, never truly there, but never truly gone.

Wisps.

Listening to the idle chatter and rampant finger-food eating, he thought about how he had grown to miss this place, with its squeaky stairs and Congressional medals of Honor up for display.

It was ironic, really. His father had been an army sniper; had seen action enough to make him uncomfortable. And then had spent the remainder of his active life chasing down serial killers and falling in love with Tempe. But he died at the age of sixty-seven because of a stroke while driving.

It made him sad, sometimes.

She still hadn't talked to him yet. Actually, she hadn't talked to anyone about anything substantial for the past few days. Even Angela couldn't get her to react. She had just stood there, staring down on everyone during her eulogy, saying that her husband had been a good man- and then had calmly invited everyone to food back at the house.

She was running on auto-pilot. But then again, only the people who really knew her would be able to spot the difference. Tempe had never been an emotional woman. Always burying herself in one project or the other when life got too stressful.

He detested people like that. He was an artist. He sang repackaged stress and emotion for a living. She was a robot.

Still, it didn't change the fact that Tempe was his mother. If not by blood, then by name.

He really had to talk to her soon. Get this over with as soon as possible. Catch the red-eye to L.A. later. He knew that it was hopeless trying to make her accept his life. And he wasn't a fool enough to try and invest in something that couldn't even shed a tear for her husband.

Smiling through-out the rest of the afternoon, he managed to survive.

Later that night, he found her crying, huddled against the corner of the sink and cupboards.

* * *

He had tried his best, honestly. But his best had never been good enough. Why should it start being so now? 

He looked down from the podium, meeting eyes that were as ashen or unfamiliar as his own. Seated in neat rows, side by side, listening to him talk about his dead step-mother.

Tempe had never truly approved of anything he had chosen to do with his life. Had never tried to make amends and overtures of reconciliation even when it was apparent to all that her time was fading fast. She had already buried her husband and her dearest friends- sometimes he thought that she also buried a part of herself every time she had walked away from a funeral.

He coughed.

He had flown to Washington D.C. as soon as he heard the news. But soon wasn't soon enough, as he had so very few contacts left from the place he grew up in.

He had had the chance to look into her eyes and see the tears. He had turned away.

Spending the rest of the afternoon at his old house, he felt all the lingering shadows of times past. Times irrevocably lost- not by anyone's design or fault- just by the simple ravages of life.

He had opened the first bottle when the phone had ringed. He hadn't bothered picking it up.

Drinking had never really been his forte, and he had woken up with a skull two sizes to small, huddled in the corner between the sink and cupboards.

And now, standing before so many people he didn't know, his acute sense of incredulity and irony came to the fore.

How would he be able to describe the woman who had tried her best to be his mother to this people? When he couldn't even decide whether she had failed or not for himself?

She had never gone to any of his concerts. Even when his tour schedule forced him to perform in D.C. She hadn't even come the day his first child had been born. Out of wedlock, of course. Like father, like son.

Or maybe not.

He had tried his best, honestly. But his best had never been good enough.

Just like when it came to his daughter. A beautiful young woman who was growing up without a father.

Maybe one day it wouldn't hurt as much anymore.

He had never forgiven her. And Tempe had never forgiven him.

He had found the news-clippings earlier that noon. Saw his black-and-white photos, his tour dates.

Soon enough, a complete collection of all his albums was found.

He hadn't cried in a long time. But he had had, right then, on the floor at the foot of his step-mother's bed.

He had tried his best, honestly. But his best had never been good enough. Why should it start being so now?

"Tempe was many things to many people. To me, for better or for worse, she was my mother."

The first tear fell like some lead weight.

* * *

The ice-cream truck had come and gone, leaving a trail of happy children and exasperated mothers in its wake. And he was still there. Standing side by side with Tempe. 

Was she supposed to be his mother?

He really didn't know. She made his dad happy. So she must be the coolest lady in the world. But it wasn't something important, though. He could decide for himself next time, when she came to tuck him in. Maybe one day.

No, it wasn't important at all.

Not like crossing the street. Now, _that_ was a grown-up thing to worry about. An important thing. And he was old enough, mature enough, and smart enough to know that he wouldn't be able to do it- for the first time, at least- on his own.

He really didn't know anything about Tempe. But she smiled. And that should be enough.

Grinning, Parker took her hand and started walking.

* * *

A/N: Well, how did I do? Definitely hardest one to write. But it just sort of came out of me. 

Additional info: If anybody cares, I apologize for any inaccuracies, because I've only seen a grand total of three episodes.

Also, sorry for mistyping anything, it's 4 am.

If anybody has noticed, I had the hardest time picking the write chapter title for chappie six. But I like my chapter titles.

Yes, it does seem that everybody is getting depressed with Booth and Brennan getting together. I'm an angsty person. Sorry.

The quote and one line from the story are sort of tributes to one of my favorite authors, Raina1. She's a writer for the Invader Zim fandom. That's not a typo. The word really is "here".

Do you think I should continue this take on Parker? Alas, I hate future fics except for a handful of well-written ones.

I won't be writing a BoothBrennan chapter, as I wanted to make this without ever dipping into their heads. Wanted to get the miscellaneous characters down.

So apologies to stwbrryCSI for that. If you want, check out my other fic, **When I Don't Pick Up The Phone**. You could read it as a companion fic.

Also apologies to both Ataea and Caroline for spelling their names wrong.

Finally, special thanks to JacobedRose, Estreya Star, pagan-seijou, Elizabeth Theresa and BonesFAN! For reviewing consistently.

Also, I thank Selene47, StwbrryCSI, Ataea, Limone, Hawkeye Girl, avaleighfitzgerald, none, Ketchup, The Dramatic Dolphin, Christy Sanborn, Tinatwin, Queen Tigeress, hick13itch and everyone else for the feedback and for the patronage. Thanks for reading.

See you guys next time.


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